


The Treasure of Lindisfarne

by oneiriad



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneiriad/pseuds/oneiriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was a young monk who lived alone in a monastery - alone, because a terrible dragon had curled itself around it one day when all the other monks had gone down to the sea to collect clams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Treasure of Lindisfarne

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** _Vikings_ does not belong to me.  
>  **A/N:** Strongly inspired by the original story of where the name Lothbrok - "furry pants" - came from.

Once upon a time, there was a young monk who lived alone in a monastery - alone, because a terrible dragon had curled itself around it one day when all the other monks had gone down to the sea to collect clams. Returning to the monastery with full baskets they spotted the beast, huge and scaly and snorting tiny flames from its nostrils as it slept.

On top of the wall, the young monk - Athelstan was his name - stood, staring down. The monks were too far away for him to hear them shouting that they'd get help. All he could do was watch as they wandered off towards the low-tide path to the mainland.

The monks sought the aid of the nearest king, King Aelle of Northumbria, saying: "A great dragon has come to the monastery of Lindisfarne and has trapped a young monk within it."

The king sent his brother, Lord Aethelwulf, and a group of mounted soldiers to slay the beast. As they approached, the dragon awoke from its slumber and met their attack with claws and fangs and fire. Lord Aethelwulf returned to his brother alone, on foot, and reported that nobody could approach the monastery and live.

Meanwhile, the dragon feasted on roasted horse and man, then returned to its slumber to digest its meal.

At the king's court, his nobles had started to argue about why the dragon had come.

One said: "It is the devil's beast, as everybody knows, as surely as the dragon the good Saint George slew in days of old. We must all pray to God for his aid and we must build a new monastery for these monks and fill it with proper gifts, so that God may desire to aid us."

Another said: "It is God's punishment upon the monastery of Lindisfarne, for nothing happens unless it is His will, and why else would He send such a beast? The monks must have been impious somehow - perhaps they have neglected their prayers or perhaps they have had a local girl inside the monastery with them. Perhaps they have had no girl, but have done terrible things with one another, as monks sometimes do. We should punish these monks harshly, so that God may see that the Kingdom of Northumbria has no part in their sin."

A third said: "Perhaps the dragon is merely a beast with a love of silver and gold as is typical amongst its kind. Perhaps it has come to Lindisfarne simply because there is much silver and gold there, and when we furthermore bring it food it will never stir. We should leave it be and remove all the sheep from the island and eventually, it will fly away in search for food."

But the other nobles laughed at that suggestion.

"Enough!" roared King Aelle. "There is a dragon and a dragon must be slain by a brave knight. So this is my decision: The man who brings me the head of the wyrm, he shall be richly rewarded. He shall have silver and gold and if ever I have a daughter, his son will have her hand in marriage."

Word of King Aelle's promise spread far and wide and knights came. They came from the English kingdoms and from Ireland and the northern wilds of Scotland. They came across the sea from all over Europe. Even a dark-skinned knight from the south came, his sword curved and his horse the fairest ever seen in the land. From everywhere they came to test themselves against the dragon.

And one by one - they died.

High above on the walls of Lindisfarne, the young monk could only watch as the dragon would breathe fire upon them and then pick apart the blackened armour to get to the meat beneath. Could only watch and pray to his Lord for deliverance.

As the months passed, fewer knights came to Lindisfarne. Eventually, they stopped coming.

So far, the young monk had managed - there was food stored in the monastery and geese and sheep behind the walls. He had a well of fresh water and barrels of beer and wine besides. But autumn would soon come and then winter with its icy claws and he had no doubt that he'd be dead before spring, for the winter supplies had not yet been brought when the dragon had come.

But the days passed and then weeks and then months.

Then one cold winter day, sitting on the wall as he often did, he saw a group of men approach escorted by the king's soldiers - and what men they were. Even from this distance, he could tell that the strangers must be giants, towering over the soldiers.

One of the strangers rode forward, close enough that Athelstan could see him better, tall and fierce, dressed in fur and with his blond hair and beard in braids. A savage, he seemed, from lands far beyond Christendom. He rode close to where the dragon slumbered and Athelstan grew afraid, for the dragon had made a habit of waking at the sound of hoofbeats, having learned that they meant food had arrived.

Then the man stopped - and looked up, directly at Athelstan, and raised an arm as if in greeting. Hesitantly, Athelstan lifted his own in reply. Then the man turned his horse around and rode back to his men and away, and the young monk was once more alone.

That night it started to snow. Athelstan broke pieces of wood from a bench in the refectory to feed a fire to keep him warm and he read his Bible to keep heart. He told himself it was a good thing that the stranger had left him and not been eaten by the dragon.

He did not convince himself.

At the frozen dawn, Athelstan found himself back on the wall - and he saw the stranger returning, accompanied by two of his men. Each of the three men were leading a donkey, one laden with what seemed like a great pile of furs, the other two carrying great barrels.

Some distance away they stopped and dismounted. The stranger took the furs from the donkey he had been leading, then started to wrap himself in them until he was completely covered. Even his face was swathed in fur. At a sign, his companions opened the first barrel and plunged buckets into it, then proceeded to pour the water down over the stranger. Bucket after bucket they emptied as the man stood, unmoving, as the cold water covered him on the cold winter day, soaking his thick furs, until all the water was gone.

In one hand they placed an axe. In the other a long spear. Then the man started walking forward, slowly and stiffly, towards the dragon's head. As he walked, he gleamed in the morning sunlight.

The dragon slumbered, but at the stranger's approach, the creaking of snow must have made its way into the beast's dreams, for it stirred - and as it stirred, a great racket began and Athelstan saw that the stranger's companions were holding shields and beating axes against them and shouting, roaring words that carried not quite so far that Athelstan could make them out.

The dragon rose, shaking its great head and looking around, searching for the source of noise. The stranger kept moving forward and the beast did not notice him for long minutes - until it did, staring down its snout at the strange sight of the fur-swaddled man.

Then it breathed fire.

Athelstan crossed himself and started to pray to the Lord to take care of the stranger's soul.

Only, then the dragon flame stopped - and the stranger was still standing, still coming, water dripping from his gleaming furs.

Once more the dragon breathed its fire. Once more the man did not die. And then he stepped forward and drove his spear into the breast of the beast, pushing it through the soft scales there.

The dragon screamed - and as it screamed, the man stepped forward and raised his axe.

It took three chops before the dragon stopped screaming and thrashing, slamming into the walls of Lindisfarne and making Athelstan stumble and fear for his life if they should fall. Then it lay still.

For the first time in long months Athelstan could walk through the gates of the monastery. Outside, the stranger was standing as if waiting for him. He had removed the fur from his head and face. This close, Athelstan could see that the stranger's eyes were blue as brightest ice and his smile was a wolf's smile and for a moment Athelstan wondered if it might not have been wiser to stay behind the walls. Except it was too late for that, for the man started walking towards him, meeting him halfway.

"And what is your name, little priest?"

"Athelstan. My name is Athelstan."

"And I am Ragnar Sigurdsson. Ragnar Dragonsbane they'll call me now."

"Ragnar Lothbrok, you mean," and the darker-haired of the two men approaching snorted at the lankier one's words.

For a moment, Ragnar Sigurdsson scowled at the men - then he too laughed.

They put Athelstan on a donkey. Behind another donkey they put a sled and upon the sled they put the dragon's head. Then they rode for King Aelle's hall.

The king was well pleased. He decreed it a feast day and he brought caskets of silver and gold and benched Ragnar at his table. Athelstan was benched next to him.

The next morn Ragnar gathered his men, loaded his treasure onto donkeys and prepared to ride out. Athelstan paused on his way to morning prayer to watch.

"Where do you go?" asked Lord Aethelwulf, for the strangers had come by ship, yet they were not heading towards the river.

"We go to Lindisfarne."

"But the dragon is slain. Its head will be boiled and the skull will be mounted in King Aelle's hall. There is nothing for you at Lindisfarne."

"Dragons nest where there is treasure - silver and gold aplenty. I did not come here for your king's trinkets, though I'll take them, or for your king's daughter, which he doesn't even have. I came for the treasure of Lindisfarne and the treasure of Lindisfarne I shall have."

"But that treasure belongs to God." Lord Aethelwulf stared at Ragnar, aghast. "To take it would be blasphemy."

"I do not care for your god. I have my own gods to make sacrifices to."

"Then you shall care for me and my men, heathen," Lord Aethelwulf growled, drawing his sword and threatening Ragnar with it. "You have but twenty men here."

"Ah. But I have this," and Ragnar lifted his axe. It was the axe he had slain the dragon with. That day, in the courtyard of King Aelle's hall, he slew men with it. Then he drove his horse forward - straight towards Athelstan, who stood frozen, staring in horror at the bloodshed. The young monk noticed his danger too late - and was swept up on Ragnar's horse, tightly grasped as they galloped away, away from King Aelle's hall and his soldiers and the safety to be found amongst good Christian folk.

It was not until much later, as he sat aboard a dragon-headed ship, seasick and miserable and with his hands tied, that Athelstan finally managed to ask "Why?"

Ragnar's smile was a wolf's smile, but it was far, far too late to run. Perhaps it always had been.

"Because I came for the treasure of Lindisfarne. _All_ the treasure of Lindisfarne."


End file.
